Oblivious
by cloverlover
Summary: She looked at her wrists to check the time and screamed. Her hands were caked in dark red, some of it crusting brown under her fingernails. The blood wasn't her own...


Oblivious

Ginny Weasley stared at the small, ragged leather-bound cover of the notebook. She froze as something outside her room creaked in the night, squinting to see in the almost pitch blackness. Everyone else in the Weasley house was fast asleep, some of them snoring occasionally as they turned over in their deep slumber, as she could hear them through the thin walls. She was restless and nervous, but the fact that she was trying to force herself to fall asleep was making the actual drifting off even more difficult than it already was.

She didn't remember buying the notebook in Diagon Alley, but here it was, weather-worn and frayed at the edges, and rather heavy too, as she fished it out of her pewter cauldron, size 2, which lay on her bedside table. Perhaps it belonged to someone else. She flipped it over, expecting to find a name, and saw some gold lettering adorning the bottom of the notebook. _Tom M. Riddle_, it read in ornate, golden print. So it did belong to someone else, but she didn't recall ever meeting anyone of that name. It puzzled her to no end.

Maybe the previous owner had written something inside – perhaps this Tom had scribbled his address somewhere so she would be able to return it if it was lost. She thumbed through the pages carefully, as the parchment was rather thin and fragile, despite their weight. The pages were utterly and most disappointedly blank, save for the dates printed inside._ This book must be more than fifty years old_, she thought. No matter, though. It was in her hands now, and she was allowed to do anything she liked with it. She figured that Tom M. Riddle wouldn't miss something he never used.

She rummaged inside her knapsack and found her quill and inkpot. Dipping the tip inside, she began to write. Now that she thought about it, it was quite fortunate for her to have found a diary. It was about time she started to keep a journal of some sort; her parents had always advised her brothers to do the same, but they never did out of sheer impatience and lack of time, which was used instead to play Quidditch. There were so many people in the house it was hard to keep anything secret, and now was the optimum opportunity to keep a few things to herself.

_Dear Diary_, she scrawled. _My name is Ginny Weasley. I've never kept a diary before, but as it's my first year at Hogwarts, I might as well try new things._ She nibbled the end of the feather, pondering what to write next, but just then, the words on the parchment disappeared. She gasped loudly, then clapped a hand over her mouth as she looked around. Had she been heard? After staying completely still for several minutes, which stretched out into the long, dark night, she relaxed once again. Where had her writing gone? She turned the page, thinking that it must have soaked through in some bizarre fashion, but there was no trace of the ink. Confused, she flipped back to the page she had been writing on.

She dipped her quill into the ink again, meaning to rewrite her entry, but before the quill so much as touched the page, words began appearing again. They were not her own, however - she quickly distinguished her own untidy scrawl from the fine, slanted cursive which was now making its journey across the yellow parchment.

_Pleased to meet you, Ginny. My name is Tom.__  
_  
Her eyes widened. Nearly upsetting her inkpot in her frenzy to write back, she scrawled, _Where do you come from?_

The words disappeared again, and after a few seconds, the cursive which wasn't her own flourished onto the page. _It does not matter. Is there anything troubling you, Ginny?__  
_  
She wasn't satisfied with the book's cryptic answer, but decided to answer his question anyway. _I'm scared. It's my first year at Hogwarts._

_Ah, I remember when I went to Hogwarts. You will find it to be a very welcoming place. You need not be afraid.__  
_  
Ginny thought for a moment that the person who was writing back sounded rather…old-fashioned, somewhat. She dismissed the thought, as she began to write back for fear of keeping the other person waiting for too long. _But my brothers have been teasing me for ages about this. I'm wearing secondhand robes and carrying secondhand books. Everything I own is old and useless, and I don't even have an owl. And Harry Potter is in a year above me, and I really like him, Tom...I tried to speak to him all summer but I end up going all flustered whenever I did. I don't think he'll ever notice me._ She stopped and noticed that her lip was trembling, but she stared fixedly at the page. For a moment she thought Tom had left, but he began to reply her again.

_Not to fret, Ginny. I believe he will notice you in time when he finds out just how beautiful you are._

Her lips curved upwards into a small smile. _You think I'm beautiful?_ She felt a warm, fluttering feeling inside – she had never been called beautiful by a boy before. She already knew what he would say before he did. _Of course I do, Ginny._

She felt a rush of emotion for this boy, Tom. He knew how she felt, he cared about her more than any of her brothers could ever fathom; she had quite literally been melted by his words. Feeling rather grateful that she had stumbled upon this book, she wrote, _No one's ever understood me like you, Tom... I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in... It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket.__  
_  
_I shall be your friend, Ginny. Now get some sleep._ She looked up at the clock; the minute hand was slowly inching towards midnight. She hastily wrote,_ Good night, Tom_, before snapping the book shut and stuffing it into her trunk. She climbed into her bed, turned over and almost instantly drifted off.

_Good night, Ginny._

Over the next few months, Ginny found herself so accustomed to keeping a diary, she was scribbling in her little notebook every night. So as not to distract her roommates' sleep, she hid under the covers and used a simple Light Spell to converse with her new-found friend. Tom was exceedingly caring, comforting her when she was upset, cheering her on in her happy moments – in general, helping her every step of the way to her new life at Hogwarts, away from home. The only thing that disconcerted her was how she knew next to nothing about him, but it wasn't like it mattered; the diary was hers, and Tom was just a handy accessory that came with it.

Several months passed. Tom now knew everything about her, like a best friend should – he knew about the crush she had secretly harboured for Harry Potter since the day she had met him, after several nights of scribbling frantically about everything she admired about him – his eyes, his hair, his bravery and so on. He knew about how she had a secret ambition to play Quidditch when she had graduated from Hogwarts, and occasionally stole from the broom shed so she could fly around, and no one would be the wiser. He knew her darkest secrets, her deepest desires, her fears, her worries, everything. He even gave her tips on the quickest way to get to classes, how exactly to treat the doors so they would open for her, and other things that made her life all the more convenient.

At first, Ginny was happy. She went about her life as she usually did, completing her homework and making friends with people such as Colin Creevey, who had a bizarre wish to start a Harry Potter fan club. She had been completely oblivious until one day when she came to after snapping out of what seemed to be a long reverie. She found herself on the Astronomy Tower in the pouring rain, water pelting down upon her hair and clothes. She assumed that she must have wanted to admire the view from above without realizing she did. There were also times where she went into trances for long periods of time, only waking up when Colin tapped her on the shoulder with a concerned look in his eyes. She dismissed his questions, saying that she hadn't slept well and had been daydreaming.

But soon after, even stranger things happening to her. She found herself standing in Hagrid's pumpkin patch with rooster feathers all over her Hogwarts robes. Now this she could not ignore. Ginny didn't like chickens; she normally avoided the ones the Weasley family kept in the garden because they kept pecking at her ankles. She looked around; no one was there, but the angle of the sunlight casting shadows over the trees told her it was close to dinnertime. Why wasn't she in the Great Hall with her friends? She looked at her wrists to check the time and screamed. Her hands were caked in dark red, some of it crusting brown under her fingernails. The blood wasn't her own.

_Dear Tom, _she wrote, as soon as she had cleaned herself up and changed her robes, _I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there. I was standing in Hagrid's garden just now and there's blood all over my hands. What is going on?_

_Perhaps someone played a trick on you – I bet it was one of your brothers, _said Tom, and she was instantly reassured. The trust they had built over the months was strong and true, and his companionship was something she could rely upon when she felt homesick. Of course it had been Fred and George. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before; how silly it was of her not to have figured this out on her own. Now that Tom had suggested her brothers as the cause of this incident, she had no doubt that this was true. Then another thought struck her, which she quickly wrote to Tom about. _But I can't remember where I've been outside of classes these few weeks. It's getting worrying, Tom._

_Perhaps you have too much homework. I can help you with that. After all, I was a brilliant student in my day._

Ginny smiled.

_Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Filch is furious, he's been blaming it all on Harry Potter, but I'm sure it wasn't him who did it, Tom! But if it wasn't him, then who's Petrifying Mrs. Norris and writing those horrible messages on the wall?_

_The thing is, it looks so much like my own handwriting, Tom, but I know I would never do that if I were in my right mind. But the soles of my shoes are wet, and they smell like bathroom water from the second-floor corridor, all horrible and slimy…_

Ginny's writing was becoming messier and more blotted the more she wrote. So furious was her writing, the nib of her quill snapped in two. She swore loudly and repaired it with her wand, but it didn't shake the worry from her mind. What was going on? She had no idea what was happening now. She had already changed into fresh robes and left her old ones in the laundry, but it didn't comfort her in any way. She was beginning to think that perhaps this Tom was a little shiftier than she thought he was. She had never even met him properly – who knew who lay on the other side of that leather-bound diary?

_Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me…There was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm going mad…I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!_

Her worst fears had been confirmed – she was working herself into a frenzy. Her brothers thought it was exam stress, but she knew it wasn't. Percy told her to take some Pepper-Up Potion, but apart from making her look like her head was on fire, it hadn't helped. Her face was paler, thinner and gaunter now, she noticed as she looked in the mirror. There had been another attack…was it really her, unconsciously? Fear grew inside her and gnawed at her stomach.

_I have to get rid of this book!, _she thought. _It's the reason behind all this mess, it has to be. _She snapped the book shut and quickly ran to the second-floor corridor. Rushing into the bathroom, she saw Moaning Myrtle floating past. "Oi, Myrtle!" she shouted, and threw the diary right at her. Myrtle screamed and ducked – Ginny didn't know why, since the book would go through her anyway – and the book landed with a loud plop, splashing water in all directions. Giving the book one last look of loathing, Ginny pivoted on her heel and left without another look back.

Ginny thought she'd never see the diary again, but she was wrong. It was Valentine's Day, and she had just witnessed Harry receiving her poem from the dwarf messenger. She could have died of shame from the look on Harry's face; he didn't look pleased at all like she thought he would be. Embarrassed, she diverted her gaze from him to his books, which were strewn all over the floor when the dwarf had knocked Harry to the ground. Suddenly, she spotted the familiar leather-bound cover, and her throat tightened. Harry had the diary – _Harry had the diary! _What if Tom had told him everything she'd written inside? She couldn't let him know; she'd poured out her heart into it. Panicking, she made a dash for the book and had almost reached it when Draco Malfoy blocked her with one long stride and snatched it instead.

"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" he drawled, laughing as he showed it to his friends. _It's not yours! _Ginny wanted to yell, absolutely terrified. It was one thing for Harry to find out her obsession with him, but Draco Malfoy? She wanted to grab it there and then, not caring how she would look in the eyes of everyone else in the corridor, but before she could put her plan into action, Ron Disarmed Draco and got it back. Ginny's heart sank; there was no chance she was going to get it back now. She had to find it later, sneak up to their room when no one was watching. She was in danger of having her secrets leaked out, and he was in danger of being taken over by whatever lay inside those yellowing pages.

Ginny hadn't been able to sleep all week. She was tormented by the same dream every night – Harry showing the diary to his friends and laughing at what she had written inside. She was beginning to formulate a plan on how to get the diary back; she had been thinking of nothing else since she'd seen it in Harry's hands.

The perfect opportunity came on a day in late February when the weather suddenly turned warm, as opposed to the chilly February the students had all been experiencing before. Everyone took this as a chance to go outside and enjoy the coming of spring, but not Ginny. She made her way to the stairs leading to the Gryffindor common room alone. The portrait door swung open after she said the password, and she walked in.

The room was deserted. The only noises were coming from the fire crackling in the hearth. Remembering she had to act quickly before someone found her, Ginny quickly ran up the stairs to her dormitory, where she dumped her books on the bed and rushed back down the stairs again. Her eyes darting about to double-check the room, she rushed up the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

Her first instinct was to search his bed – she'd hidden Riddle's diary under her pillow when she had it. She went to his four-poster and peeled off the bedclothes. No diary there. She spotted the drawer and opened it, taking out everything that was inside and throwing them on the mattress. It wasn't there either; she began to panic. Focusing on her sole desire to find the diary, she began to throw the contents of his trunk out in search for it. She fumbled with the latch and threw it open, rummaging around. Everything Harry owned went flying in her desperation, but at last she found it, buried under his copy of _Voyages with Vampires. _Breathing a loud sigh, she grabbed it and ran.

Everyone in the Great Hall was buzzing about the most recent attack on Hermione and Penelope at breakfast time. Ginny couldn't eat; she was too nervous. Was she really the person who had been causing this? She decided she had to tell someone. She spotted Harry and Ron and sat next to them, hands twitching nervously, unsure where to look. They instantly turned to her. "What's up?" asked Ron. Harry was looking at her too, and suddenly, she had lost the ability to speak. Instead, she looked away from them towards the Gryffindor table, aware that her eyes were getting wider by the second the longer they stared at her. "Spit it out," said her brother, looking a little concerned.

"I've got to tell you something," she said in a small voice. She could feel their eyes on her now, almost boring into her. She felt very hot and bothered, and began rocking in her chair out of sheer nervousness as she avoided Harry's gaze.

"What is it?" said Harry. Ginny's throat clogged up. _Say it, _she told herself. _Tell him it was you. _But she couldn't; he was looking at her with a sort of paralysing intensity which was making her feel very hot and bothered.

"_What_?" said Ron. She swallowed and opened her mouth, but she couldn't form the words.

Just then, Harry leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you seen something? Someone acting oddly?" He was so close; she could feel his breath ruffling her hair as he spoke to her. She was rigid in her seat, and suddenly felt as if she really could trust him. She had the courage to tell him now, she was going to open her mouth, take a breath and –

"If you've finished eating, I'll take that seat, Ginny. I'm starving, I've only just come off patrol duty."

Ginny was so startled, she sprang out of her seat. She shot a horrified glance at Percy, who was looking at her with a concerned look. She ran away before he could ask her anything. Her only chance was gone.

_Dear Tom, I'm going to have to tell someone about you. You're dangerous to the school and you have no right to do this to the students of Hogwarts._

Ginny watched with bated breath as her words disappeared and new ones formed on the page.

_Seems like it's too late for that now._

Before she had time to process this, a sort of trance seemed to come over her. She swayed on the spot for a few seconds, eyes glazed. Then slowly, she took a step forward, away from her bed; as if in an unconscious daze, she made her way out of her dormitory and down the stairs, muttering in a voice that wasn't her own. As soon as she was out of the Gryffindor common room, she broke into a run. She arrived on the second-floor corridor with a pot of red paint she had been forced to steal from Filch's cupboard, and painted the final message on the wall. The brush and pot of paint clattered to the floor as she turned and went for Myrtle's bathroom. The paint glistened on cold stone, bearing the message _Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever._

She woke with a gasp. The ceiling above her was high up and made of grey stone, and her entire back was damp from lying in a puddle of water. "Where am I?" she wondered aloud, and she jumped as she heard her own voice bounce from wall to wall. _Where am I?... Am I?... Am I?... Am I? I…I…I…_

The diary lay inches away from her, and though it was in a puddle as well, it was not soaked in the least. Its pages ruffled for a second before words began forming on them for the last time. _Clever girl,_ it read_. You finally figured it out, didn't you? It was I who sent you on all those little adventures, killing Hagrid's chickens, painting messages on the walls… I knew you would find out sooner or later, but fortunately I was just in time. You'll find the next thing I do will be perfectly painless on your part. All you need to do is lie still._

"No!" Ginny shouted, and attempted to stand up, but his hand shot out and froze her in place. The only part of her she could move were her eyes, which darted back and forth, open in terror. A voice began to chant and Ginny could feel a coldness seeping into her body, making her muscles go slack. She felt as if she were turning to ice. There was a cold, cruel cackle, and Ginny rolled over to see where it came from. She looked up to find a boy standing over her. He couldn't have been more than fifteen, and at first she didn't know who he was, until she saw the diary clasped in his hands.

Her eyes widened. "Tom?"

His nod and smile were the last things she saw before she slipped into unconsciousness.

Ginny woke slowly, a groan escaping her lips as her groggy mind came into focus. She heard footsteps approaching and loud splashes accompanying them, and as they came closer she forced herself to sit up. As soon as she saw the dead basilisk, Harry's concerned face, his robes, covered in blood, and the diary which now had a large hole in it, she understood what had happened. She gave a loud gasp and burst into tears.

"Harry — oh, Harry — I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-_couldn't _say it in front of Percy — it was _me, _Harry — but I — I s-swear I d-didn't mean to — R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over — and — _how _did you kill that — that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary —"

Harry interrupted her and held up the diary. "It's all right, Riddle's finished. Look! Him _and _the Basilisk. C'mon, Ginny, let's get out of here – "

Ginny suddenly realised where she was and let out a fresh wail. "I'm going to be expelled!" she cried, getting to her feet. "I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I'll have to leave and — _w-what'll Mum and Dad say_?"

The next few moments passed by quickly. In almost no time they were reunited with Ron, who was thankful to know his sister was all right. Professor Lockhart's charm had backfired until he didn't know who he was, and Fawkes transported them out of the Chamber. They entered McGonagall's office, where she fell into the arms of her sobbing and relieved parents. Harry told their story for them as the adults in the room listened in silence; then she was sent to the Hospital Wing where Madam Pomfrey fussed over her and worried about whether she had caught a cold. Being sick was the least of her worries, now that she'd just been saved from the clutches of death. All she wanted was to thank Harry for what he'd done for her, and wait for her life to go back to normal – or at least, as normal as it could be, given that she went to a school like Hogwarts.


End file.
